A Friendship of Sorts
by BML Hillen-Keene
Summary: A Malfoy expiriances the true meaning of friendship, at the hands of a Longbottom. Neville/Draco friendship fic. Child Abuse mentioned.
1. Chapter 1

**A FRIENDSHIP OF SORTS **

_Prologue_

_"What the hell? Malfoy!"_

_Rough hands grasping at his shirt, pushing him backwards until he hit the wall. Blue eyes glared coolly back at furious brown ones._

_"Unhand me Longbottom or you will regret it."_

_A short laugh, one of bitter amusement at the words. The hands did not move, instead they pressed harder. _

_"Regret? Me? The only person here who is going to regret anything is you Malfoy, you stupid, pig-headed, self-absorbed git!"_

_A blond eyebrow rose, and lips thinned in response._

_"Un hand me now."_

_There was a biting edge to the words, and the hands did release, but the eyes never lost their furious glare._

_"Just tell me why! Tell me why you had to throw your life away?"_

_A snort of derision._

_"There is no point answering that, because you wouldn't understand."_

_A sigh and brown eyes closed. When they opened again there was a deep sadness there._

_"Maybe I wouldn't. But I do understand one thing. Our friendship is over, and you only have yourself to blame. I trusted you Malfoy, defended you even, and this is the thanks I get? Fine. Go."_

_The back was turned, and so the brown eyes missed the look of sorrow well up in the blue just before footsteps sounded on the stone floor, moving away, probably never to return. Brown eyes closed again._

_"Dammit..."_


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I own nothing_

_There are those of you who will recognise this story, I haven't really changed anything, just added some small bits and combined some chapters. I will most definately finish this story, I will upload a chapter or so whenever I hve time as my internet is out. You Will probably have noticed the strange prolgue there, trust me, it will all make sense, I promise you it will. For those of you who have never read this story before, it is a Neville/Draco friedship peice. Do enjoy. I even have a sequel planned for this. Total Au after the 5th book._

_Chapter 1_

Draco stared out the train window, his whole body held still with that one thought rolling around inside him. He was going home for summer. It wasn't something that normally bothered him; after all, he was going home to his family's oversized mansion. He was going to have everything he wanted. But this year… well this year his father wasn't going to be there and bad things were going to happen. He just knew they were. They always did when his father went away, even for a short time.

He was clinging to the faint hope that he would just be ignored as usual… that she wouldn't… he blinked suddenly as they pulled into the station. He looked at all the parents waiting for their children, and felt a pang that his father wouldn't be there to pick him up like always. He hated that stupid Harry Potter now, more than he ever had before. He had taken away the only person that had ever cared for him, well, aside from Professor Snape.

He sighed, glad Crabbe and Goyle had disappeared to harass some first years, and pulled his trunk down from the rack. He pulled it out of the compartment, out the nearest door and off the train. He briefly wondered if his mother would even remember to send someone to pick him up, or would he be left to floo home himself. He glanced around, half hoping he would see his father standing by the wall, waiting. But nothing.

No one was coming for him.

With another sigh he pulled his trunk through the crowd, ignoring everyone. He exited the platform and paused, trying to remember where the nearest floo station was that his father had shown him. He caught sight of the Weasels, all together and scowled. Potter was with them. He forcibly restrained himself from going up to Potter and punching him, or cursing him. He just headed out of Kings Cross, still scowling.

He reached the floo station ten minutes later, took out his pouch of powder and flooed home. Landing with a jarring feeling. He steadied himself. He hated flooing. He dragged his trunk out of the fireplace in the giant hallway of Malfoy manor; letting it drop for the house elves to take up to his room. He started up the stairs to his room, hoping to avoid his mother at all costs. He made his way up three flights and down the left corridor to his room and opened the door.

Or tried to.

It was locked.

His room was never locked.

He frowned and tried again. The door wouldn't budge. He turned, ready to call for a house elf to explain what exactly was going on, only to find his mother standing down the hall from him a bit. He moved back a bit, eyeing her warily.

"Having a bit of trouble aren't you." She said a wicked smile on her face.

Draco dredged up his courage. "Why is my door locked mother?" he asked.

"Because it's no longer your room." She informed him coldly.

"What?!" he burst out without thinking, earning himself a sharp slap on the cheek, his mother nails raking his skin painfully.

"Don't question me! Now that your fathers not around to protect your worthless life you will not be treated as anything but what you are. An animal. A disgusting animal. And you will sleep outside, like an animal." She studied her nails, making sure touching the 'animal' hadn't damaged them in any way.

Draco stared at her in disbelief. "Mother, what do you-"

She shrieked and lunged forward, catching him off guard, catching a handful of his hair and jerking his head back. "I am not your mother you disgusting creature. You are merely something that came from me." She dug her nails into either side of his jaw angrily. "I wouldn't suggest that you open your mouth again unless you want it broken." She let him go suddenly and he stumbled.

He caught himself and stared at his mother, never before had she been this aggressive, except that time his father had gone away when he was four, she had shown her true colours then, and they were re-emerging rapidly. He rubbed his jaw, feeling the blood from where the nails had broken the skin. He watched her warily; she was on edge, that much was very evident. He waited for her to tell him what to do; looking at her he knew what she was capable of.

"Get out of my sight you worthless creature." She snapped at him.

Obediently he made his way past her, she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, he turned his head and waited for the blow to fall. It didn't, and it surprised him. But when she spoke it made him wish she had just hit him and been done with it.

"You've had this coming to you for a long, long time boy. And believe me; I will enjoy bringing you up to date." She smiled at him and he shivered slightly. "Now get out of my sight." She gave him a push.

He continued on down the hall, glancing back only to find she had disappeared. He made his way down to where he had left his trunk. It was still there. He sat on it and let the despair wash over him. This summer was definitely going to be hell, and even if he tried to get away he knew he couldn't. He wasn't of age, if they found him he would get sent back. He had no one to go to. He felt his hands begin to shake slightly; he clenched a fist and set his jaw. This wasn't going to happen. Not again!

There was a sudden pop and a house elf appeared in front of him. "Mistress wants me to show Master Draco his new room sir." It squeaked, its high pitched voice setting his teeth on edge.

He stood up, and gathered as much dignity as he could manage and looked at the house elf. "Alright. Do so." He said.

The house elf squeaked again and hurried off towards the kitchens. Draco followed it, slowly, his hands still clenched. It lead him through the kitchens, where the other house elves stopped and watched him pass. It lead him outside, a little way from the house to what resembled a garden shed. He regarded it critically, eyeing the locks on the outside.

The elf opened the door and bowed low to him. Draco stepped inside, it was dark, no windows. He shuddered, it was even cold. He knew it was a spell. His mother was going all out on this. He swallowed and turned to the elf. "Can I have my trunk brought out?" he asked.

"Mistress has forbidden it, and she tells me to get Master Draco's wand sir." The house elf reached up a hand.

Draco grasped his wand. The trunk he could do without, but not his wand. He needed something to use if it get too much. This place, this wasn't too much… he knew his mother could get worse, she had done it before. "No." he said, sounding braver than he felt.

"Mistress told me to tell Master Draco that if he didn't give up his wand, Master Draco would get no food sir." The house elf cowered.

Draco considered quickly. "No." he repeated, he needed the wand. He needed its protection.

"Mistress also tells me to tell Master Draco that he will be locked in his new room until she is to deliver punishment sir." The house elf said. Closing over the door.

Draco watched it, feeling the despair again as the door closed and the locks were drawn into place. He reached out blindly for the wall and slid down it, shivering in the be spelled cold of the shed. Yes, this summer was going to be hell.

He buried his head in his arms, and, still shivering, cried for the first time in years, as the despair that had started growing when he had heard his father had been put in Azkaban, filled him completely in the face of what was going to happen now.

_x_

The claustrophobia was setting in. he didn't know how long he had been in the pitch black little shed, but it was too cold, and too small. He had tried to keep his mind away from this place, but he could think of nothing else, worrying about what his mother was thinking up as punishment. And trying to work out what he had done-well aside from being born, to warrant punishment. He clenched his hands tighter; he hated the way they shook, trembled. It wasn't because of the cold; they had done this since he was a child.

Usually he could control it. But not now. He didn't know why. He jerked away from the wall he was leaning against with a soft sound, like a muffled sob. He couldn't stand it anymore! His whole body felt cold, numb. His stomach gnawed quietly, it had stopped rumbling a long time ago, around the same time he had thrown that fit and started beating his hands against the door, begging someone to let him out. Afterwards of course, he had been quiet glad no one had come and seen him in that state. But now he didn't care. He had to get out!

He banged where he could vaguely remember the door being weakly. "Please!" he cried, desperate. "Please! Anything-you can have the wand. Just please let me out! Please… mother! Please…" he collapsed, too weak to do anything more and started to sob, he had no tears left to cry. "Father…" he sobbed, drawing his nails over the wooden wall, hardly noticing the splinters lodging under his nails. "…please…"

He didn't know how long he had being lying there, sobbing like a child before the door opened to his right and a thin ray of light entered, covered immediately by the little house elf from before. Draco looked at it blearily and reached out. The elf ducked away. "Mistress wants Master Draco to give his wand sir." It mumbled.

Draco felt around for the wand and held it out. "Please." He whispered.

The elf took the wand and started to close the door again, Draco lunged forward. "NO! Please! Don't… don't leave me here… please…" he begged.

But the door closed, plunging him into darkness again. Draco's breath hitched and he sank back, hyperventilating as the oppressive air fell around him again. He was trapped and he didn't know how to get out. He had tried magic just after the door had closed, but nothing happened, there must have been a magic dampener field in the shed, which had meant that his wand was useless. He needed out. His whole body began shaking.

He was feeling light-headed and dizzy, an inestimable amount of time had passed since he had handed over his wand, he felt decidedly ill. He had given up trying to move a while ago, it just made it worse. He couldn't breathe properly, just short hitches of breath occasionally. Loud in the unnatural silence of the shed. He hated the sound. He could feel himself slowing losing his mind. He shivered in the cold. Gritting his teeth to fight a wave of nausea that washed over him.

Then the door opened.

Draco moved towards the light, too fast, and he cried out as his head exploded in pain as the dizziness overcame him and the harsh summer sun cut through his vision. Cradling his head he blinked blearily at the shadow at the door.

"Mistress says to give this to Master Draco sir." The house elf said. Something scraped as it was set on the floor and the door was closed again.

Draco slumped back; he was never going to get out of here. Never. After a moment he moved forward, slowly, so as not to set the dizziness off again towards the thing the house elf had left. He groped blindly for it and his hand knocked against a cup. He lifted it carefully and tasted it, suspicious. It could have been anything. It was water. He drank it quickly and coughed as it caught in his throat, ragged from screaming. When it was done he felt around again until he found a bowl. He didn't care what it was, so long as it was food, so he ate it quickly. He set it down and crawled back to the wall, feeling slightly better than he had since he was put into this place.

He fell into a fitful sleep, haunted by nightmares of what was yet to come.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 2_

Nothing about Draco Malfoy's summer was mundane and regular. It was anything but. He had finally been let out of the shed, his mother had laughed at him, told him he was weak, that he had been in there for only a short amount of time. But Draco knew differently. He knew he had been in there for a long time. But it certainly wasn't the last time he was put into the shed for extended periods of time. Sometimes he would be left in there for a night, sometimes much, much longer, in the complete silence, shivering with the cold. He never knew for how long, but he always ended up thinking he would be left in there to die. He didn't want to die.

His nerves were shaken enough by the mere thought of being in the shed, but his mother had much more planed for him. When she had let him out the first time she had taken him to the entrance hall of the mansion, had the house elves bring buckets of water and wax.

"I want the whole hall gleaming boy. Get it done by the time I return from town and you can eat." And she had left him, standing in the hall. Gazing around at the huge interior with a sinking feeling. It would take him a whole day to get it cleaned to the degree she wanted it. He hadn't been given any food that morning. If the slop the house elves left him in the shed every morning could be called food. He was hungry; he had lost a lot of weight too quickly from however long she had kept him in the shed. He swallowed his pride and started cleaning. Knowing that if he didn't she might lock him in the shed again and never let him out.

She returned before he was finished, and had smiled maliciously at him and his stomach sank low and nausea crept into him. He'd been locked up again, without food, for a shorter time than before, thankfully. But things didn't look good.

His mother usually set him difficult tasks that he could never accomplish on his own, using food as her weapon. If he did it he would get it, if he didn't, well, the shed and hunger waited. But sometimes she turned violent, very violent.

He hadn't expected the stinging bite of the heavy belt buckle, one of his fathers, cutting into his back suddenly on day when he had been set to clean out a room in the upper hallway his mother wanted to turn into another wardrobe or something. The pain shocked him to the core and he turned slightly, only to have the buckle smash into his cheek, he heard the bone crack and he fell back. The blow rained hard and fast, and he could see his mother working herself into a maddened frenzy through his arms as he tried vainly to protect his face.

She left him, curled up on his side, the robes he hadn't been allowed to change out of, torn and bloodied, with the words. "Filthy creature."

He hadn't been able to move properly for weeks after, because he occasionally took fits to beat him like that. Then had him locked back in the shed to recover. His ribs were broken, his cheek, his nose, his wrist. His face, back and torso were covered in an array of blue/black bruises and bloody cuts, some of which were getting infected. But his mother didn't care. She just made him keep working the way she had before.

His hands had gotten worse. There was a constant tremble in them now that he couldn't control. He had been beaten more than once because he had dropped something because he couldn't get a good enough grip on what he was holding. He clenched his hands painfully. Willing it to stop. Wishing that all this would stop. That his father would come back and make it stop, that he would come back and save him.

His father had always been there for him, always. He was never as cruel as anyone else had thought. With Draco he had been a real father, not the image he had to show the rest of the world. But because of that damn Potter, he was gone. When he was in the shed he often imagined that Potter, Weasely and Granger were laughing at him. That they knew of his pain and they were laughing. They claimed to be so good. But they didn't care if what they did had resulted in this. In this agony.

The door opened and he looked over, wondering.

"Mistress is wishing to speak to Master Draco sir." The house elf squeaked.

Draco pushed himself to his feet painfully, hissing between his teeth, and followed the elf back up to the house and into his father's study. Seeing his mother seated in his father chair sent a half-hearted wave of anger through him. She had no right to sit there. But he was too weak to give it the rein it wanted.

His mother tossed a letter carelessly at him. "School starts in a few days boy." She said carelessly. Pointing to a bag on the table. "Take the bag, clean yourself up and go to it. I don't want to see you again."

Draco lifted the bag and the letter and left the room silently. Not wanting to enrage her so she would keep him here, to torture him further. Outside the little house elf bobbed in front of him.

"Mistress tells me to take Master Draco up to the bath sir, its all ready and waiting sir. I is also to heal your cuts sir." The elf babbled.

Draco nodded absently and followed the elf.

When he had bathed, changed into the first clean set of robes he had seen all summer, tied his too long blond hair back from his face. He was given back his wand and his trunk. He pulled the trunk weakly into the fireplace, feeling all his remaining strength drain away. He sat on it heavily, pulled out his floo power, dropped a pinch and said, in a voice that no longer held its old arrogance and command.

"The Leaky Cauldron."

And he was gone.

x

Draco landed with a small thump at the leaky Cauldron. He sat for a long minute regaining his breath. He hated feeling this weak. Finally he pulled himself to his feet, steadying himself on the fireplace wall and pulled his trunk out and across the room to the bar. Not caring that the only customers, sitting in a back booth, were staring at him. There was nothing else to look at in there.

He stopped at the bar and climbed wearily into a seat and waited for the inn keeper, Tom, to notice him.

Tom ambled over, looked at him cautiously, then glanced around, as if looking for something. Draco barely noticed, he dug around in his pockets and pulled out the pouch of gold his mother had given him. "Single room please." He said quietly.

Tom studied him, watching him start to count out some galleons from a very small pile, and did something he swore he would never do, for a Malfoy at least, but the boy's pitiful counterence moved him in some part of his soul. He gave discount. "How long are you wanting to stay?" he asked.

Draco looked up, surprised; his attention had wandered a bit. "Until I have to go back to school. Three days I think." He replied. Pushing over half the gold on the table across, hoping it would be enough, he couldn't keep his attention on counting, not with the smell of food in the air.

Tom counted out six galleons and pushed the rest back. "It'll be two more if you want dinner for the week." He said. Draco nodded and he took another two, then ambled off.

Draco stared at the gold he still had. He wouldn't have enough for new books. He knew it should have disgusted him to realise that he would have to but second hand copies, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He just wanted to eat, go up to his room and sleep, without the tension that something was going to happen. He dropped his head on his folded arms on the counter and sighed.

Tom put a bowel of stew beside the boy and a key with a large number, 11, carved on it. And went back about his business. It wasn't in his nature to pry, but the boy looked ill, like he hadn't had a decent meal in days.

Draco looked up and sat up, pulling the bowl towards him. He ate it quickly. Slid off the chair holding the key. His trunk was gone, up in his room already. He nodded his thanks to Tom and went up the stairs to room 11. He only just made it to the small ensuite bathroom in time, and what he had just eaten was brought back up. It had been too long since he had had so much, and he had eaten to fast. He stumbled out to the bed and fell onto it, not bothering to change he just closed his eyes. He had his first real sleep in weeks, with only a few nightmares to haunt him through it.

The next day he bought his books, and his money dwindled even more. He had less than five left. He hadn't grown from last year, so his school robes fit ok. He wouldn't have to worry too much about potions ingredients. Snape would most likely let him have some. And he didn't need anything else. So he did what any normal teenage boy would do. He loaded up on sweets. But they would lie in his trunk for most of the year; he had no appetite for them at all, in fact the mere thought of them made him ill. After that he spent the rest of his time in the Leaky Cauldron, eating and sleeping more than he had in the entire summer thus far.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 3_

Finally the first of September rolled round. He gathered up his things and flooed to the flooing station closest to Kings cross. He ignored the crowds of people. Slipped past all the parents saying goodbye to their children. He got on the train with as much purpose as he could. He was late, so most of the train was full, students hanging out the windows saying goodbyes. He glanced into a compartment. There was only one other person, and it wasn't a Slytherin. He opened the door and went in.

He levitated his trunk up to the overhead rack, glad he could do magic again. Before sitting down and actually looking at the other person. It was a Gryffindor. And not only that, but it was Longbottom. He couldn't find the rise to say anything biting, so he just looked out the window, and scowled to see Harry Potter getting hugged and waved onto the train by the Weasely's and their third year professor, the werewolf. He clenched his hands as they trembled, shooting a glance to Longbottom. But the other boy was trying to be inconspicuous in his escape, he had moved closer to the door.

The door slid open and Crabbe and Goyle looked in. spotting Longbottom and smiling almost identical smiles at this. They drew their wands. Ready, no doubt, to test any and all new spells they had learnt over the summer.

"Crabbe. Goyle. Get out." He said, surprised he could manage the drawl he had perfected over the years.

The both stupidly turned their heads to him. "Malfoy. What are you doing in here? We didn't see you."

"Obviously. Now get out. And put your wands away before I hex you."

"We were only having some fun!" the whined.

Draco glared at them coldly. "Get. Out." He said slowly, deliberately. "Have your fun somewhere else."

With confused looks Crabbe and Goyle left.

Longbottom sank back in his seat, staring at Draco in shock. Draco didn't care that he had just protected a Gryffindor. He just wanted those two dunderheads as far away from him as possible. He looked back out the window as the train whistle blew and they began to move forward, looked out at all the smiling and waving parents. The depression that had consumed him during his time in the shed washed over his again. He had managed to not think about it over the last week. He sighed. Ignoring Longbottom's stares.

There was silence in that compartment all the way to Hogwarts.

Draco took his seat at the Slytherin table. It didn't surprise him that his classmates were regarding him with some suspicion. After all, he had shared a compartment the whole way to Hogwarts with a Gryffindor. It didn't really bother him. He had swallowed his pride one too many times over the summer for there to be any left. It didn't say much for the way he had been raised. His father had always taught him to be strong.

The very fact that knowing his father would be disappointed to see him reduced to this state didn't make him want to prove himself like it had before. No, it just festered. Because his father was in Azkaban, and no one was ever released from Azkaban when charged as a death eater. His depression just kept growing. Soon it would drown him.

"Is it true then?" Zanbini asked, taking the empty seat beside him.

Draco didn't look at him.

"Well?" Zanbini probed again. "Did you stand up for that stupid oaf Longbottom?"

Draco cast his eyes to the head table, catching sight of Snape. Ignoring McGonagall leading the new first year's in. his eyes swept the table, searching for the new DADA teacher. He blinked at the strange woman whose hair was turning red, blue, yellow and green by turns.

"-wouldn't let us play with the little gryffy." Crabbe was finishing.

Draco glared back at them.

"Damn Draco-your father gets put in Azkaban and you're suddenly defending Gryffs, what's with that?" Zanbini asked, his tone sneering.

Draco looked at the table. He wasn't in the mood for a confrontation, all he wanted to do was eat, go up to his dorm and sleep. And get rid of his rapidly forming headache which was getting worse with the sounds of the cheers. He didn't even have to try an ignore anything going on in the hall. He just zoned out.

When the food appeared on the table he suddenly didn't want to eat. The sight of so much made him queasy. He hadn't seen that much food since he was last at Hogwarts. He pushed some around on his plate, trying to fight the claustrophobia threatening to over whelm him as his classmate, seeming to have forgotten he was there, pushed up against him to reach things down the table.

Dumbledore's speech went right over his head; he never caught a single word. When he finally got down to the Slytherin dungeons he collapsed into his bed, leaving the curtains wide open, unable to breathe with them closed. And while everyone else was in the common room talking, he fell into a fitful sleep.

x

Neville Longbottom had been very distracted from he had arrived at Hogwarts, wondering why Malfoy had stopped Crabbe and Goyle from hexing him. It didn't make any sense. But then, the entire train ride made no sense.

Malfoy had seemed… well, different. He hadn't spoken after he had sent the other two away. He seemed very far away, and he looked practically skeletal, like he hadn't eaten properly for a while.

He was probably anorexic or something. It wouldn't have been surprising; Malfoy always seemed so obsessed with his looks. For some reason though, Neville had the insane notion that he should thank the Slytherin. He couldn't explain it. He just had to.

So for the first week he had sought an opportunity to thank Malfoy privately. But he was always surrounded by the other Slytherins. He finally got his chance on Wednesday of the second week when he caught Malfoy leaving the great hall after breakfast.

"Malfoy!" he called.

Draco stopped when his name was called and he turned to see who was calling him, he groaned inwardly. Longbottom. The boy had been trailing him around like a dog all week, fuelling comments and rumors within Slytherin house about how he was a Gryffindor lover and how Longbottom was his boyfriend.

He didn't even know his first name for Merlin's sake.

He didn't want to talk with Longbottom. But if it made him go away he would.

Longbottom ambled over and fidgeted, like he was going to say something but he didn't. Draco sighed and turned away. Longbottom's hand shot out. Draco caught a glimpse of the blur in the corner of his eye and he flinched, a vision of the belt swinging for him taking the place of reality.

He didn't stop to see what would happen; he just hurried on down the corridor.

"Something happen with your boyfriend?" Zanbini sneered at him as he passed.

Draco ignored him and headed for the library, clenching his hands around his books as the trembling increased. They always trembled now, but it got worse if he got stressed.

He was doing the unthinkable and skipping classes today.

Neville watched him go with a startled look on his face. All he had been trying to do was stop him leaving. Malfoy's reaction confused him to no end.

He determined to seek him out after classes. Malfoy's behavior, and that panicked look was tugging at the innate kindness within him. He wanted to help.


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 4_

Draco had secluded himself away at the end of one of the aisles of books, well out of Miss Pince's line of sight. He sat with his transfigurations book on his lap, but he wasn't concentrated on it, no matter how hard he tried the words blurred on the page and he had the sudden urge to cry.

He just couldn't believe he had run off like that, that he had let them see him weak. He didn't care what they made of his silence, but running off like that. He didn't know what to do. He wished he had someone to talk to, but he had never been able to make friends.

After Potter had had turned him down in first year he had never tried again, not wanting to face rejection again. His self esteem had been shot after that, until he had told his father what had happened, afraid he would think it stupid of him, but having no one else to turn to.

But his father had been as understanding as usual. Draco needed that understanding, that refusal to judge him. He needed it so badly. But he knew he wasn't going to get it.

He sat for the rest of the day, knee's pulled up to his chest, head buried in his arms, letting the despair and the depression drown him. Choking back tears. Glad that hardly anyone came up to the library in the first few weeks of school.

Neville scoured the school looking for Malfoy after classes, but found no sign of him. Finally he gave up and headed back to the library. He had to pick up an extra book for Potions; he was going to really work at it this year.

He began to search down the aisles for that book Hermione had told him about when he heard someone sight and a bag rustle. He peered round the end of the aisle and found the very person he'd been looking for.

"Malfoy?" he asked.

Malfoy jumped slightly and turned to look at Neville. "What is it Longbottom?" he asked, but his voice was devoid of its usual bite.

"I just wanted to say thanks. And sorry." Neville said quietly.

Draco's eyes widened slightly at the words. "What for?" he asked, before he caught himself and reined his wandering tongue back in. he wasn't weak-not in front of others.

"Thank you for not letting them hex me on the train, and sorry for making you run off earlier. I'm not sure what I did but you looked panicky for a second there." Longbottom clarified, with a confidence Draco had never heard in his voice before.

But the reference to him looking 'panicky' made him get angry. "Go away Longbottom." He snapped, sliding back down the shelves to the floor, ignoring the Gryffindor, pulling out a book from his bag.

Neville left him with a sigh and went back to looking for that book. He eventually found it and went to one of the tables to copy some things out. He forgot about Malfoy for a while as the whole of Potions confused him all over again.

Draco had sat for a while, staring at the same page in his book. No one had ever thanked him before for something, and _really_ meant it. And he had apologised for earlier. It just didn't make sense. Shouldn't the Gryffindor have been making fun of him, bringing his friends to laugh at how the 'Great Draco Malfoy' had fallen?

So why hadn't he?" and why did it bother him so much that he hadn't.

Draco closed the book with a snap, he needed to go outside and clear his head. He got up, steadying himself on the shelves as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He hadn't eaten yet today. He found he couldn't eat much anymore; he just didn't have the appetite.

He made his way to the main part of the library, where the desks were, and towards the door. He paused when he saw Longbottom, obviously struggling through a text book.

He made as if to go on, but something stopped him, he wasn't sure what. Maybe it was just the need to talk to somebody, anybody, about anything. Maybe it was the fact that Longbottom hadn't made fun of him. But whatever the reason he found himself by Longbottom's desk.

"What are you studying?" he asked.

Longbottom looked up, surprised, then smiled wryly. "Potions." He said.

"Oh." Draco coughed lightly. "Need help?"

Longbottom looked absolutely stunned and stammered out. "W…What?"

Draco took the seat beside him. "I'm feeling charitable." He said, trying for his normal drawl, but it wasn't quite up to scratch.

Longbottom frowned at him for a moment, confused. But he nodded, and Draco let out the breath he'd been holding. "Your good at Potions aren't you?"

Draco shrugged. "What are you trying to learn?"

Neville wasn't sure if he'd seen that look of longing in Malfoy's face or not, but he decided to trust his instincts on this. So he explained what he was struggling to learn. And when Malfoy explained it, it made more sense. If that was possible.

Draco left the library that evening with an arrangement to meet Longbottom at 8:00pm the next day for another study session. For the first time since his father had been put in Azkaban he felt…

Ok…

x

"Why are you even taking Potions?" Draco finally asked during their fourth study session. "Let's face it; you're not particularly good at it."

Longbottom shrugged. "I want to be an Auror, like my parents. I need Potions; I just can't understand it when Professor Snape just expects you to be able to do it."

Draco had noticed the sad look that had crossed his face when he mentioned his parents. Maybe they had something in common. He shook his head at the thought and quickly turned his attention back to the text book, hoping he hadn't given away just how much he needed Longbottom's Company.

"It's not that difficulty if you relate it to something you enjoy-like painting, or quiddich or something." He explained. "What do you enjoy doing?"

Longbottom blushed and mumbled something.

"What?" Draco asked.

"Gardening." Longbottom said, louder, his blush spreading.

Draco nodded sagely. He had thought as much, Longbottom always knew what to do in Herbology. "Right, so think of Potions in terms of gardening."

Longbottom frowned. "I don't see it." He finally admitted.

Draco pulled over a page and started scribbling on it quickly. "The soil is your cauldron, ok. And all the plants you put in are the ingredients. Some plants need to be put in at certain times and need special attention. Whatever you do, don't rush it, and always read what you need to do, like you were reading something on a flower pot or something. You normally rush it because you don't want to be left behind, but if you rushed gardening or Herbology the whole thing would be a disaster and the plants would probably die, wouldn't they?" Draco looked at Longbottom, hoping he understood.

He nodded.

"It's exactly the same with potions, only you get an explosion. So when you're making the potion, pretend its gardening, it doesn't matter what your partner says, or professor Snape, do it slowly and it should turn out ok." He shrugged.

"Thanks Malfoy." Longbottom grinned. "I think I might actually be able to do this!"

Draco felt his heart sink; now Longbottom wouldn't need tutoring anymore. He cursed inwardly and started picking up his books.

"Same time tomorrow?" Longbottom asked suddenly.

Draco froze, blinked, nodded abruptly and quickly got up and left the library. As he made his way to his common room he was relieved. Since he had started tutoring Longbottom, now that he had something else to think about, his appetite had come back, and his depression had receded.

Neville watched Malfoy go with a half smile, obviously he didn't realise just how many emotions he let show on his face, he guessed it had something to do with his father being put in Azkaban. Malfoy had always had a weird relationship with his father.

But there was something deeper than just not getting everything he wanted. Neville shrugged it off. Whatever it was he would probably never hear about it. He was hardly the kind of person Malfoy would confide in. but he had to admit to himself that he wanted to know what had changed him.

He sighed and went back to Gryffindor tower.

"Hey Neville!" Seamus called.

"Hi." He replied with a smile, joining him, Dean, Harry and Ron by the fire. "What're you at?"

"Dean's giving Ron a run for his money." Seamus laughed.

"He is not!" Ron said in mock anger. "No one can beat me at chess!"

"So where were you?" Harry asked, turning to him with a smile.

"Studying." Neville shrugged.

"Are you turning into Hermione?" Seamus asked with a grin.

Neville shook his head. "No, I'm just getting some help with Potions."

"Oh really? With a girl?" Seamus asked lewdly.

Neville laughed. "No, not with a girl. I need to _learn potions_ Seamus."

"Ok, fine Nev, but why do you even want to do it?"

"I need a good grade in Potions to be an Auror, and I think I can get it if I study enough." He shrugged. "Anyway. I'm heading to bed. Night all." He turned and made his way to the dorms.

"Hermione said she saw Neville and Malfoy in the library last Friday." Harry said quietly.

"And Malfoy's been awfully quiet this year." Ron added. "Do you think he's planning something?"

"Like what?" Dean asked.

"Setting Neville up for a huge mess up in Potions?" Seamus suggested

Ron scowled. "That would be Malfoy's style to."

Harry shook his head. "Maybe he's changed."

"Oh come on Harry- Malfoy?" Ron cried.

"Ok, I admit, not very likely. But maybe he's not planning anything." Harry conceded.

"We should probably check it out." Dean suggested.

"And if he is only doing this so Neville will mess up we'll hex him." Seamus grinned.

"I say we hex him, then ask him-the git deserves it!" Ron said a glint in his eye.

The four fell to planning what they would do to the blond haired git who was Draco Malfoy. Never considering that maybe Harry had been right and he wasn't planning anything. None thinking that maybe Malfoy just wanted a friend.

x

Draco was amazed at the fact that over the course of a month he and Longbottom had become as close as he would ever come to having a friend. They met everyday in the library between 8 and 10pm to do homework, or to tutor Longbottom.

He had wanted to ask Longbottom's first name for a while, but he hadn't, he couldn't bring himself to break the illusion.

He was heading the library, like he always did when he was free before curfew forced him to go back to the Slytherin dungeons. The muttering, the comments and the rumours had gotten worse, he could only hope that they would grow bored after a while and move onto something else.

He was so intent on getting to the library that he didn't notice Potter and his cronies come up behind him, until they put the Leg Locker hex on him and he fell. Barely catching himself. He turned to the laughing behind him, ignoring the jarring pain in his wrist, he had had worse.

"So Malfoy, enjoying your date with the ground?"

"What do you want Weasel?" he asked, unspelling his legs and scrambling back to his feet.

"We need to have a talk." Finnegan smirked at him.

"About what?" Draco asked tiredly, he didn't want to argue with them, he just wanted to get to the library and drive his thoughts away with his books. Seeing Potter did nothing but remind him of his summer.

"About your little plan to mess up Neville's chances in Potions." Potter said.

Draco frowned for a moment for a moment before it hit him. "Longbottom? I'm tutoring him." He said before he thought.

"Yeah right! Why would Draco Malfoy tutor a Gryffindor?" Weasely asked with a sneer.

Draco turned intent on walking away. "Believe what you want Weasely." When he was hit by another three hex's, he fell to his knee's and started coughing, choking.

"Holy shit-what did you hit him with?" he heard Thomas ask, in a hushed voice.

They compared hexes. "Well now we know what those three combined so. " Finnegan laughed.

"What do we do to stop it?" Potter asked, his voice laced with false concern.

"Leave him. " Weasely laughed. "It serves him right!"

"Ron? Harry? Malfoy!" Longbottom's voice rang out, just as Draco was sick all over the floor.


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter 5_

Neville had stopped in the hall when he had heard choking and coughing. So he had backtracked a bit to the corridor to the library and stood for a second before starting forward. His eyes widened when he saw his room mates crowding round Malfoy, discussing hexes. So he rushed forwards, calling to them.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, turning to Ron, Harry, Seamus and Dean.

"Nothing." Ron said, glaring at Malfoy.

"Well something happened!" Neville snapped, taking them aback. "You hexed him, didn't you? What for?"

"He wouldn't tell us the truth." Seamus muttered darkly.

"The truth about what?"

"That he's just tutoring you so you'll mess up in Potions Neville." Harry supplied.

Neville's eyes grew wide. "That is ridicules!" he exploded after a moment, sounding very much like Ron when he was in an exceptionally bad mood. "Malfoy is not tutoring me so I screw up! I'm getting better at it because of him. You shouldn't judge people before you know the whole story!"

"But he's-" Ron began.

"He's what Ron? A Malfoy?" so? Everyone can have a change of heart. He hasn't said or done anything to you this year, so you really don't have the right to do this to him! Next time ask _me_ first before you go making assumptions!" Neville ended with a glare at each of them before turning to Malfoy. "Come on, I'll take you to Madam Pomphreys." He said, helping Malfoy stand and cleaning the mess on the floor with a quick spell. With one last glare at the group he led Malfoy away.

Draco stopped after they had gone a fair way and turned to Longbottom with a confused frown. "Why did you… are you… why?" he asked after a moment.

Longbottom smiled. "Because they shouldn't have done it, now come on, your face is turning green."

Draco felt the wave of nausea come back to him. He allowed Longbottom to take him to the infirmary. Mulling over what the other boy had said.

Madam Pomphrey fussed over him for half an hour after giving him a Potion to ease the sickness.

"You'll have to stay the night dear. Honestly-how could anyone do something like this to a fellow student!" she bustled away.

Longbottom turned to him. "Why didn't you tell her who did it?"

Draco shrugged. "Nothing would have been done about it-after all; it was the Great Harry Potter and his sidekick the Weasel." He said quietly. He looked out the window beside him with a sigh.

"Are you ok Malfoy?"

"I'm fine Longbottom."

Longbottom fidgeted for a moment. Draco turned back to look at him. "About that-I figure 'Longbottom's' a pretty long name to call me by. You could just call me Neville." He offered.

Draco blinked at him as shock made its way through his system, he knew he was probably wrong in thinking this, but Longbottom had stood up for him to the other Gyrffindor's, he had waited with him in the infirmary, and now he was asking him to call him by his first name. Like friends would.

"Yes!" Neville laughed. "Like Friends."

Draco went pink with embarrassment at having spoken aloud without realising it. "I… I didn't… I…"

Neville stuck out his hand. "Neville Longbottom."

Draco stared at the hand, at the offer of friendship. "Draco Malfoy." He said quietly, accepting the hand.

And for the first time in his life Draco had a friend.


	7. Chapter 7

_Interlude_

_"Oh, for Merlin's sake Longbottom, could you take any longer?"_

_Exasperation and not a little frustration easily recognisable in the tone, blue eyes annoyed at the constant interruptions. A warm laugh as footsteps pad along the gravel road._

_"Says the boy who stands in front of the mirror for half an hour perfecting his hair?"_

_A small glare of annoyance and brown eyes dance merrily._

_"That is a lie and you well know it. Now, may we proceed or are there any other girls you'd like to try and 'romance'?"_

_A shrug and a quick grin, followed by a wink to a passing girl._

_"You make it seem like I'm not good at it. Girls love me Malfoy, your just jealous."_

_A snort, followed by a quick twitch of the eyebrow, which said everything without words, but even so words followed._

_"Jealous? Of what exactly?"_

_A fake stumble backwards, and a mock shocked expression, there for a moment, but replaced soon afterwards with a grin._

_"Cruel, and oh so cold! You'll never get a girl that way."_

_Blue eyes rolled, a cross between bemusement and resignation._

_"They're not worth it Longbottom."_

_An annoyed sigh._

_"I swear I think you're a robot sometimes!"_

_A confused look spreads across the pale face, and a hand reaches up to smooth back some stray hair._

_"Robot?"_

_Brown eyes glance sideways, their mischievous light partially hidden, and not likely to be seen by the other. _

_"A muggle thing. And don't look so disgusted! You think I don't know about that secret stash of muggle porn you have hidden under your mattress?"_

_A short huff of breath, possibly of annoyance, possibly a small soundless laugh, it is difficult to tell._

_"When have you ever been in my dorm?"_

_A bright grin spreads, stretching up arms cross behind his head; brown eyes wander appreciatively over another passing girl._

_"Oh, I have my ways Malfoy, I have my ways!"_


End file.
